


Cover Me With Kisses, Baby (Cover Me With Love)

by ZairaA



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles You Slut, Dirty Talk, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, M/M, Porn, Rentboys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5677846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZairaA/pseuds/ZairaA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik has seen the boy quite a few times over the last two months. He's extremely pretty and always arrives late in some posh car or other, always with a different gentleman companion. Erik isn't naïve. He knows what he's looking at, can imagine well what they will do behind the closed door of their hotel room. In fact, he has secretly and shamefully imagined it, later, much later, when he's lying in his bed at home and can't stop thinking about the boy with the red lips, wondering what it would be like to touch all that pale skin and the too long hair curling against the nape of his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover Me With Kisses, Baby (Cover Me With Love)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mssdare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssdare/gifts).



> This all started with MssDare linking [this picture of James McAvoy](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CWU6cnqWUAAM7js.jpg:large) and demanding Rentboy!Charles. I thought, 'Oh well, just a little PWP to pass the time...' and ended up weeks later with what's probably the longest PWP I've ever written. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, darling! And Happy Birthday! <3
> 
> All the thanks to the wonderful Asya for always being there to whip my writing into shape! :)

It's late, and the crowd at Rubin's Restaurant is slowly dispersing when Erik pushes through the door into the back alley to haul out the trash. His shift is almost over, and he stops for a moment to squint up at the few stars he can see despite the city lights and inhales the cool evening air. It comes as a relief after hours of cooking smells.

After a moment, the roar of an engine breaks the quiet and draws Erik's attention to a sleek, red car that's turning into the parking lot of the hotel next door. Two men get out, and Erik stills as he recognizes the passenger in his tight clothes and stylish black leather jacket.

He has seen the boy quite a few times over the last two months he's been working at Rubin's. He's extremely pretty – there's no other word for it - and always arrives late in some posh car or other, always with a different gentleman companion. These men are mostly older, a lot older than the boy, who must be around Erik's age, even if he has a baby face that could let him pass for even younger.

With the trash bag dangling from his fingers, Erik's eyes follow the unequal pair from the car park up to the hotel entrance. As uncomfortable as he feels about it, he can't stop himself from watching. It's more or less always the same. The men put their arms around the boy, all possessive and suggestive, and he smiles at them with his red, red mouth, sweet and false, leaning into them and allowing himself to be guided.

Erik isn't naïve. He knows what he's looking at, can imagine well what they will do behind the closed door of their hotel room. In fact, he has secretly and shamefully imagined it, later, much later, when he's lying in his bed at home and can't stop thinking about the boy with the red lips, wondering what it would be like to touch all that pale skin and the too long hair curling against the nape of his neck.

The silver haired man who's with him tonight stops just before the wide steps to the entrance, within a golden pool of light, and pulls the boy closer, drawing him in for a kiss. But the boy turns his face away and presses his lips against the man's neck instead.

Erik balls his hands into fists as he watches the man grope the boy's ass through his tight jeans in response. It's ridiculous. Erik doesn't know that boy, doesn't even know his name, nor has he ever spoken to him, but he doesn't want these men to touch him, doesn't want the boy to have to subject himself to it.

He's staring now, but he's standing in the shadows of the alley between the restaurant and the hotel and, even if their attention wasn't averted, he can be reasonably sure that the pair won't spot him. As soon as he thinks that, though, the boy turns so that his companion's back is to Erik and he raises his head to look over the man's shoulder right at him.

Erik freezes, quashing the involuntary urge to take a step back. He's already surrounded by total darkness. The boy can't possibly see him. And yet he tilts his head in a blatantly seductive gesture, rubbing himself against the older man's body, all while he's staring into the shadows of the alley as if he _knows_ Erik is there.

Finally his companion becomes impatient. He takes the boy's hand and pulls him up the stairs, and the spell is broken when they are swallowed by the revolving door. Erik sags a little and takes in a deep breath. He must have imagined that. There is no way the boy could have seen him.

He picks up the trash bag that has slipped from his fingers and drags it over to the cans, lifting the lid with a wave of his hand. After he has dumped the trash inside, he leans back against the cold brick wall of the building and closes his eyes for a moment to try and calm his racing heart. Rubin is a nice guy, an acquaintance of his mother's from the synagogue. He won't mind if Erik takes a few extra minutes.

When he opens his eyes again, the lights have been turned on in one of the second story rooms of the hotel. It's a fairly modern building with narrow floor to ceiling windows, and the curtains haven't been drawn. Still, the light doesn't reach Erik's corner of the alley. He looks up, wondering if that's the room they... and gets his answer when the boy, already shirtless, comes into view. He's facing away from Erik, gaze directed to the far corner of the room, as he slowly pulls down the zipper of his jeans. He shimmies his hips, losing his pants with a grace that looks practiced, and Erik sucks in a sharp breath as the pale globes of his ass are revealed.

Erik’s cheeks feel on fire in the cool evening air, and he lowers his eyes, staring down at his shoes, embarrassed and turned on and utterly unable to move. He needs to go back inside. He is intruding on a private moment, even if it's one that has been bought. Erik has no right to watch.

He takes a few shallow breaths and then looks up again, drawn like a moth to the flame, only to find that the boy has turned around, presenting Erik with a full frontal view of his nudity. He's beautiful. Less feminine than his style suggested, short but broad-shouldered and surprisingly sturdy. Erik swallows hard. His trousers have become uncomfortably tight.

Up in the room, the boy shifts his legs further apart and lets one hand slowly glide down from his chest, over his flat stomach, all the way down to his cock. Erik has tried not to look before, but he can't help it now. The boy is hard, his cock standing full and proud as he strokes himself as if he's putting on a show, as if he _wants_ Erik to look – which he knows is a ridiculous excuse.

Erik lets himself sink back against the wall and keeps his hands at his sides. Looking is bad enough, but he won't--

Then the other man comes up behind the boy. Erik had almost forgotten about him, but it helps to be reminded that this is not for him. That it's the man who has bought the boy, who has acquired the right to use him and touch him. He's still wearing his trousers, but Erik can see the obscene bulge in his slacks. His chest is furred with the same silver hair and he has at least a solid foot on the boy.

Helplessly aroused, Erik watches as the man wraps his arms around him, licking and sucking at the crease between his neck and shoulder, as the boy turns his head to the side to give him better access. The man's hands are roaming all over the boy’s stomach and chest, rubbing and tweaking his nipples, while he writhes in his grasp.

But the boy's eyes are staring right out the window, down into the shadows, where Erik is lurking.

Erik feels hot and cold. His knees are weak and his hands are shaking when he sees how the boy takes one of the older man's hands and guides it behind himself, to his ass, and-- Erik knows very well where the man is touching him when the boy arches his back and starts rocking his hips back and forth, can imagine how one broad finger is rubbing that small, wrinkled hole, pushing against it, stretching it--

The boy slaps one palm hard against the window pane, and Erik flinches but looks up again, meeting the boy's gaze over the distance – impossible as it is – completely enthralled.

Time stops and the noise of the street, the bustle of the restaurant inside, it all drops away. The boy is Erik's whole world, and he can't even think about turning away any longer. He watches the man open his trousers, watches as he pulls out a condom and bends forward to whisper into the boy's ear. The boy shakes his head. Puts both of his hands flat against the glass in front of him and spreads his legs even further, arching his back. His chin lowers, but Erik can still feel his gaze on him, pinning him in place out here, watching.

The man lines up his cock. He remains hidden behind the boy, but Erik's not interested in him, tries to blank him out so he can concentrate on the boy alone. On his naked body, stretching in a graceful arch as the man pushes into him, his hips undulating and his fingers curling against the glass. On his expressive face with the wide blue eyes, his mouth open, moaning and cursing when the man slaps his ass and fucks him with sharp quick thrusts.

Erik tries to imagine that it's him instead, grabbing the boy's hair and slamming into him, pulling him back on his cock. He would wrap his hand around the boy's erection, would stroke him in time and urge him to let go, to come, come for Erik alone--

The boy coats the window with his release and Erik comes in his pants, sparks exploding behind his tightly closed eyelids.

He slumps back against the wall, panting harshly and letting out a string of expletives. When he opens his eyes again, the street lies in darkness.

Fuck.

Erik hasn't had such bad control since he was fifteen.

For a moment he thinks that he's hearing happy laughter inside his head, but it must be the blood still rushing in his ears.

  
\---

  
Rubin gives him an odd look when he comes back inside, but luckily everyone’s too occupied with the power-outage to pay much attention to Erik. He goes home, glad to get out of his soiled pants and even gladder that his mother isn’t home; he’s not sure he would be fit for conversation tonight.

Lying in bed after a quick shower, he still can’t stop thinking of the boy in the window. When he finally gives in and slowly strokes himself to another climax, his cheeks burn with shame after.

He's distracted in class the next day and goes to work for his afternoon shift feeling irrationally nervous and then oddly grumpy when nothing happens all day. He has no idea what he’d expected to happen; it probably was all in his head anyway and the boy has no idea that he has a perverted stalker with a schoolboy crush. Most likely he doesn’t even know Erik exists - which should be a relief rather than a disappointment.

It’s early evening when Erik is finished for the day. He steps out into the alley, swings his backpack over his shoulder and opens the lock of his bike with a discrete flick of his fingers, startling when a voice comes from behind him.

“Hi there.”

Erik whips around and finds himself face to face with the object of his infatuation.

The boy smiles at him cheekily. “I think we've seen each other before, haven't we?” he asks.

Erik feels his face grow hot, and he brusquely turns away. “Maybe.”

The boy is not deterred. “My name is Charles."

Erik glances back over his shoulder. The boy’s holding out his hand, and Erik’s mother has taken too much care to teach him manners, so he reluctantly shakes it.

“Erik,” he mutters.

Charles doesn't let go of his hand immediately and his smile broadens when it takes Erik a moment before he pulls away.

“Is there something you wanted?” Erik asks.

“Actually, I thought there's something you might want.”

Erik's stomach drops.

“I've seen how you look at me,” Charles continues, all charm and dimples.

Erik defensively crosses his arms over his chest. “Have you now?”

“You might say I have a bit of an eye for it.”

Erik tries hard not to grind his teeth. Is Charles actually suggesting what Erik thinks he is?

“If you're looking for a... client, I'm sorry to say that I don't think I fit your profile.”

“Why would you say that?”

Erik snorts and shoots Charles a disbelieving look. “Well, for one thing, I work as a busboy. I don't have money to--” He swallows before he quietly adds, “And I wouldn't want to. I don't... not like that.” Another heartbeat and then, “I'm sorry.”

Charles just looks at him, but something changes in his expression, becomes less studied and more genuine when a quick smile lights up his face. “That's sweet. But I wasn't going to charge you.”

Erik blinks.

“You think I'm doing this for the money?” Charles asks amused. “I couldn't care less about that.”

Erik's brows draw together in a frown. “Then why do you...?” It seems incomprehensible to him that Charles would let these geezers touch him if he doesn't need what they are paying him.

Charles shrugs. “I like sex.”

Erik gives him a skeptical look.

“Maybe I grew tired of being a good boy. Maybe I like to have control.” Charles smiles, but it's tight and doesn't reach his eyes. “You don't know everything about me.”

“Actually, I don't know anything about you.”

Charles' face smooths over. “You know what I look like naked,” he says with a suggestive look. “And you know I have a great ass. That's more than some.”

Erik clears his throat and fights off a blush. “How did you...?”

“Know you were watching?” Charles grins. “I have my ways.” He steps closer before he adds, “And just so you know, I was imagining that it was you. Fucking me. Hard and unrelenting.”

Erik exhales sharply through his nose. Charles' eyes are incredibly blue. Seductive. Erik can't look away when he reaches out and takes Erik's hand.

“But I don't trust my imagination.” Charles' fingers curl against Erik's palm, drawing lazy circles. “I'd rather know what the real thing feels like.” He presses closer, right into Erik's space and Erik can feel his hot breath against his cheek, when he continues. “Your cock in my ass. Your hands on my hips. Your lips...” Charles trails off, turning his head and brushing a kiss against the corner of Erik's mouth. “I know you want me,” he breathes. “And I want you, too.”

Erik is helpless, utterly helpless. He stands no chance when Charles’ lips press against his, can’t remember why he should be resisting when Charles’ tongue teases his mouth open. With a groan, Erik grabs him, one hand on his jaw and one on his hip, pulling him closer and diving in deeper, biting at his too red lips and sucking on his tongue. It’s messy and perfect and Charles lets him, rocking his hips forwards and rubbing his stiff cock into the crease of Erik’s thigh.

It's glorious, having Charles in his arms, and maybe Erik is going a little mad. His own cock is throbbing in his tight jeans, all his blood rushing south and leaving his head completely empty. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just knows he wants more of it, more of Charles, needs it like oxygen.

“Come up to my room with me,” Charles whispers against his ear, and Erik just nods stupidly.

He’s forgotten about his bike, about the essay he should be writing tonight, about how he doesn’t really know Charles beyond the fact that he sleeps with men for money. He lets Charles take him by the hand, pulled along by the brightness of his smile and the swagger in his hips. Charles is like a force of nature and Erik is only human.

When they stands next to each other in the elevator, and Erik watches the automatic doors close in front of them, reality comes rushing back. He glances sideways and sees Charles gnaw at his lip. For a second, there's a crack in the confident demeanor. An unexpected glimpse of what might be lying under all of Charles' bluster, and a reminder that Charles is a person, a guy Erik's age, not just a fantasy. It makes Erik feel awkward. He wants to say something, but he has no idea what would be appropriate and before he can come up with anything, the elevator stops. Charles steps out and shoots him a wicked smile over his shoulder.

Erik can see it now. How Charles' whole appearance and mannerisms are designed, a mask he dons, and Erik tells himself that this isn't what he wants. But he still follows Charles, down the corridor to a plain door and further into a nondescript room. It's impersonal. The perfect place for anonymous sex with a prostitute, and Erik can't stand it. He doesn't want to think of Charles that way. Doesn't want to be like one of these men Charles brings here to let them fuck him.

Charles must sense his sudden hesitancy because, once the door has fallen shut behind them, he turns to Erik with a challenging glint in his eyes.

“Something wrong?” he asks loftily, raising his eyebrows.

Erik nervously clears his throat. “No. It’s just… We don’t have to.” He gestures between them. “You know?”

“Don’t tell me you've got scruples?”

Erik shuffles his feet, but apparently Charles will have none of it. Falling into a seductive pose with practiced ease, he shrugs off his jacket and then grabs the bottom of his red turtleneck, slowly pulling it up and over his head. Even if he wanted to, Erik can't turn away. The view of Charles’ chest and stomach is even more entrancing at close quarters. His nipples are a dusky pink, and a sparse trail of hair is running from his navel down into the waistband of his jeans. There's a half moon scar over his left hipbone, which feels oddly intimate, and Erik catches himself with the silly urge to run his fingertips along the raised skin, pressing kisses to Charles' shoulder while he tells the story behind it.

“You like what you see, don’t you?” Charles pulls him back into reality. There's a knowing look in his eyes and his smile is taunting. “I know you do.”

He pops the buttons of his jeans, and lets them hang open, precariously clinging to his hips. From what Erik can tell, he's not wearing any underwear.

“I know all the filthy things you want to do to me.” Charles' voice turns low and he slowly stalks closer, alluring and just a little dangerous. As far as seduction goes, he is obviously a professional. “You want to pin me down and make me beg for you to fuck me. Want to suck my cock and taste that dark, secret place you can’t help thinking of, even though you’ve never done anything like that before.” He glances up at Erik through his long lashes before he whispers, “Don’t worry, I can teach you all the things you’ve only ever dreamed of.”

Erik stands stock-still, breathing shallowly through his mouth.

“You don’t quite want to admit it, but I think you like it a little rough.” Charles places his hands on Erik’s chest and slowly lets them wander down to his stomach, leaving tingles behind on his skin. “It turned you on when he pulled my hair. When he spanked me. But you want it to be more, don’t you? You're a romantic. You want me to like it. Want to make me scream and lose control. I have to say that sounds quite promising.”

It’s hard to think straight through the haze of arousal. The thrilling sensation of Charles' hands on him. But something is niggling at the back of Erik's mind, an unease that won't go away. Everything Charles says is hitting right home. He’s almost too accurate to simply be guessing, but how could he possibly know--?

_I know everything about you._

Erik freezes. It’s Charles voice, smooth and dark like chocolate, and right in Erik’s head.

_I’ve known every time you’ve been watching me._

“You… you’re a…”

“Telepath, yes.” Charles smiles unapologetically. His hand sneaks inside the waistband of Erik’s jeans, but Erik draws back, his fingers clamping around Charles' forearms.

“You've been reading my mind?”

The feeling of betrayal and embarrassment hits him like a bucket of ice. He can't help but wonder whether this is what Charles does with all those men. If this is the game he likes to play.

Charles looks at him for a long, silent moment. “Yes. I do read their minds. And if I don’t like what I see, I’ll send them their way, thinking they had the full service.”

Erik's hands have gone slack, but Charles doesn't pull away. Instead he steps closer and sneaks his arms around Erik's waist, his eyes searching his face.

“But you're different.”

Erik wants to ask Charles what he means. Whether he’s talking about them both being mutants, or whether he's just looking for a change from fucking old, rich guys. He doesn’t let himself consider the idea that this might mean anything else to Charles. They hardly know each other, after all.

He bites the inside of his lip, remains silent and then blinks, caught off guard, when Charles’ right hand comes up to rest against his cheek. He’s pulled down into a kiss that’s unexpectedly gentle, and when they break apart again Charles' eyes are an unfathomable blue. Erik’s heart is beating hard and fast in his chest.

Charles takes him by the wrist and leads him over to the wide hotel bed. The blatant seductiveness from before has vanished, making him look unadorned and bare and beautiful. He pulls Erik's shirt off before he can make a sound of protest and holds his gaze as he bends down, trailing his lips from Erik's collarbone down to his nipple, slowly sucking it into his mouth. Erik gasps and involuntarily clutches at Charles' hips when a hot bolt of lust shoots straight to his groin.

Charles steps back, a smile flickering round the corners of his mouth, and he begins to take off the rest of his clothes with a complete lack of self-consciousness. He’s gorgeous when he sprawls back against the sheets stark naked, and Erik can only stand there and stare with his mouth dry, wondering whether this is really happening.

Charles raises his eyebrows. “You're still wearing entirely too many clothes for this to work,” he says.

Erik swallows and then fumbles with the buttons of his jeans, only belatedly realizing that he's still wearing his shoes. It's not exactly graceful, but at least Charles doesn't laugh at him, and then he's down to his boxers.

“There's no need to be shy,” Charles says when Erik hesitates again. He smiles wickedly when he takes himself in hand and slowly starts to stroke up and down his shaft.

Erik narrows his eyes and pulls down his underwear with a challenging look. Charles lets out a low whistle. “ _Definitely_ no need.” 

Erik huffs out a laugh, and Charles grins at him in response, and suddenly they are just two guys fooling around together, nothing more to it. Erik gets on the bed next to Charles and places a hand on his stomach while Charles trails his fingers up the inside of Erik's thigh. He's a vision in the low evening light, with that lethal mouth, his limbs lithe but strong and his legs spread in invitation.

Erik holds his breath and lets his hand glide down to Charles' hipbone. He hesitantly rubs his thumb into the hollow there so close to Charles' cock which lies full and heavy between his thighs. The tip is a dark pink, and there's already a drop of milky white fluid building at the slit. Erik meets Charles' eyes over the long expanse of his torso and bends down, touching his lips to the velvety skin. Charles draws a shuddering breath and then moans when Erik licks up to the head, swirling his tongue around it and softly sucking.

“You're unexpectedly good at this,” he whispers.

Erik grins. “Beginner's luck.”

He isn’t exactly a virgin. There has been Magda, his first and only girlfriend when he was sixteen and spent the summer at a kibbutz, and maybe more importantly Janos, a Mexican exchange student two years older than Erik, who opened his eyes to a lot more than foreign culture. But that's nothing compared to Charles' experience, and so it's thrilling to see him like this, fisting the sheets and trying to keep from bucking up into Erik's mouth when he goes down on him.

This. This is exactly what Erik wants, to see Charles slowly come apart. Charles had been right about that one. Erik sucks harder, choking a little when the tip of Charles' cock hits the back of his throat but pressing onward anyway. He takes his time, teases Charles with soft breaths and gentle kisses before taking him in all the way again and then pulls off to spread Charles' legs farther. Wrapping his fingers around Charles’ length, he strokes him while nosing and licking at his balls. He loves Charles' scent, the way it gets sharper when he leans in further, beyond that stretch of velvet skin into the dark, musky valley between the cheeks of Charles' ass. Erik feels drawn to it, wants to own it and open it and bury himself inside.

Charles curses and starts pulling at his hair. _Fuck. Yes. God, Erik, your mind is the filthiest, most beautiful thing I've ever-- Want you to fuck me. Want you inside me. Never-- Not anyone like you._

What follows is a lot clumsier and less suave than Erik would have expected and entirely more perfect for it. Charles fumbles for his discarded jeans and nearly brains himself at the nightstand, cursing and laughing and then kissing Erik hungrily as he presses the little plastic packets into his hand. Charles' hair is hanging in his face and his lips are bitten crimson, and Erik hugs him close, pressing their naked bodies together where they are kneeling on the bed.

“Come on,” Charles whispers, a gush of hot breath against his ear, when Erik mouths at his neck, holding himself back from sucking bruises into Charles' delicate flesh. “Fuck me.”

Erik nods, face pressed into Charles' shoulder, but holds onto him a little longer before he pulls back with a last, bruising kiss that has Charles licking his lips. Charles rolls onto his stomach and glances back over his shoulder.

“I'm used to it, but you're big,” he says. “You better use three.”

“Okay.”

Erik swallows heavily. His hands are shaking when he rips open the packet of lube and coats his fingers. He and Janos never did more than a few mutual blow jobs, but Charles wants this and, god, Erik is close to coming from the view alone. Charles on his knees, the line of his back gently curving into that pale, perfect bottom and that dark, wrinkled furl revealed between his cheeks. It looks too tight, impossible for Erik to fit any part of him inside, but the resistance proves to be a sham as soon as he rubs one lube-coated finger over Charles' entrance.

The sight of his fingers sinking into Charles is mesmerizing. One becomes two and then the requested three – _More. Come on, Erik, I can take it._ – and Charles is so hot inside, moaning shamelessly as he rocks himself backwards, fucking himself on Erik's fingers. But it's not enough, they both want more, and Erik has to bite down on his lip hard when he rolls the condom down over his aching cock. He lines up, pushes just enough to see the wrinkled skin pull tight and smooth around the head and then stops, desperately pressing his eyes closed while trying to think about square roots and logarithms.

Charles sniggers into the pillow.

With a heated glare, Erik pushes him down into the mattress and slides right in, pinning Charles with hands on his shoulders and Erik’s cock in his ass, effectively turning his amusement into grunted expletives. Charles is panting under Erik's weight now, pushing up although he can hardly move, causing Erik to sink even deeper into him.

_Fuck, Erik. Knew you liked going a little rough. Shit, you're big. Never felt so full._

Erik leans his forehead into the hollow between Charles' shoulder blades. _Are you-- Did I hurt you?_

_Not more than I like._

_I don't want to--_

_God, you're killing me, Erik. Need you to move. Come on. Make me scream._

Charles tries to buck his hips again, his laugh just a little desperate, and Erik takes mercy and pushes himself up on his hands, forearms straining as he pulls back and then slowly sinks into Charles' delicious heat again. Charles is so beautiful and Erik knows he's strong but, like this, he looks breakable. He doesn't want Charles to do this with anyone else. Whatever reasons he might have, it's painful and self-destructive and Erik desperately wants to keep him safe.

He presses kisses to Charles’ shoulders, his neck and ear, while he steadily fucks him with long, deep slides that make Charles moan. He’s turned pliant beneath Erik, his damp hair sticking to his forehead and his lips bitten red, his eyelashes fluttering like spider legs above his cheeks.

_Definitely... the death of me. Oh. Erik--/em > _

Erik doesn't answer, just picks up the pace, his arms shaking now and sweat dripping from his forehead, sliding down Charles' spine into the hollow of his back. They're moving as one, skimming the edge of ecstasy, bright pleasure building under their skin and tingling down to their toes. Sparks are dancing behind Erik's eyelids and he know it's coming, even as he tries to hold off just a little longer, just a few more seconds of this, of them right here, of being with Charles, before it all comes to an end.

The final moment is almost painful, an orgasm ripped from him like a dam cracking under pressure, wrecking him entirely as he clings to Charles like a man lost at sea, broken whispers of “Charles... Charles...” tumbling from his lips. He’s not sure but he thinks there’s an answering echo in his mind.

_Erik Erik Erik Erik Erikerikerikerikerikerikerikerikerik_

\---

The sky is already turning an inky blue outside the windows and the room lies in murky shadows. The only sound is their dual breathing, still accelerated, and Erik can see Charles’ heaving chest from the corner of his eye. His limbs are sprawled in all direction and there’s an almost beatific smile on his face that strikes Erik as hilarious, but also makes him embarrassingly proud.

_Oh, you certainly can be proud of yourself. That was amazing. Pornstar level. Best sex I ever had._

Charles' words make Erik wince. “Don’t,” he begs. _Don’t treat me like one of them._

Charles rolls over to face him. After a moment, he hesitantly reaches out a hand to comb it through Erik’s hair, pushing it back from his forehead.

_You're not._

Erik makes a skeptical sound, but Charles pulls him over until he’s lying on top of him, cradling Erik’s face with both of his hands, and gives him a look that is as exasperated as it is serious before he pointedly kisses him with his eyes open.

_I don’t kiss them on the mouth. I've never given any of them my real name, and I certainly don’t tell them what I am._

Charles looks up at him defiant and just a little uncertain. He’s going to break Erik, and Erik will let him.

_I won’t. I promise, I won’t._

_I don’t want you to do this with_ them _anymore,_ Erik thinks before he can stop himself. _Please._

Charles kisses him softly. _It hasn't been about them for a while._

Erik draws back and looks at him disbelievingly. "You slept with them because--"

"I knew you were watching me." 

"You couldn't have just asked me out?"

Charles shrugs and briefly looks away. "I wasn't sure if you'd like me as... just me."

Erik groans and pushes Charles back into the mattress with a possessive kiss.  _Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again._

Charles smiles against Erik's lips. He hums in agreement, and for a while they just hold each other, kissing lazily. When they pull apart, Charles is so close Erik can count every single freckle on his nose. There’s still so much he doesn’t know about Charles, but maybe it would be nice to take his time finding out about it all.  

Charles lets his fingers ghost over Erik’s lips. _I’d like that. But in a few weeks, I_ _’m leaving for Harvard._

Erik hesitates. "I’m going to MIT." Erik tries not to get his hopes up, tries not to imagine meeting Charles at Harvard Square, but then narrows his eyes at him. "You already knew that, didn't you?"

Charles gives him a chagrined look before he lifts Erik’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss to their interlocked fingers.

Erik shakes his head and slumps down beside Charles.

_So... do you know everything about me already?_

Charles looks at him with a soft smile.

_Hardly. And I hope you keep surprising me, just like you did today._

 


End file.
